


The Spaces In Between

by Narcissos



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cliffhangers, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-11 18:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11720283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narcissos/pseuds/Narcissos
Summary: A reconnaissance mission gone wrong sends Lance into the hands of Lotor and his team of Generals. It's the worst possible turn of events, until it isn't.Maybe they can learn from one another after all.





	The Spaces In Between

**Author's Note:**

> Title of the story comes from [circles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fP8ElyrwtEc) by EDEN.

The cargo spacecraft that appears in the hangar where the lions reside is clunky, small and very old. The paladins meet the ship with blatant hesitation and look to Princess Allura who huffs and tucks her helmet under her arm.

"It was the best I could acquire, given the short timeframe." She says.

"Don't you mean _steal_?" Lance snorts, poking experimentally at the metal that coats the outside of the carrier. "Own up to your crimes, Princess."

The Altean in question flushes red in response. "You are more than welcome to--"

"Okay, it'll do." Pidge interjects, veering the topic away from Allura's abrupt thievery and focusing on the matter at hand. "So to recap, we received information from the Gargutov people that Lotor is on the outpost planet Droroth."

"Yes." nods Allura, "Furthermore, there is reason to believe that this may be where they are keeping their ship--"

"But, how do we know?" Hunk worries his bottom lip between his teeth. "What if—guys, it could be a trap."

"Well, we won't know until we get there." Lance shrugs, pursing his lips. "Sooo, who's going?"

The size of the ship dictated that only two could actually go on this journey. Choosing the right two would be the problem.

All eyes turn to their leader.

Shiro frowns for a moment before sliding his gaze over to Keith, wordlessly granting him the authority to make this decision. It went without saying that Shiro believed the one who piloted the black lion was the rightful leader, although it didn't sit too well with Keith—or anyone really—to have taken his friend's place.

Keith exhales. "I'll go. Lance, you're coming with me."

"Why Lance?" asks Pidge with a scoff, "Because if stealth is what you're aiming for, he's probably not the best choice."

Lance pouts at the unexpected jab. "I can be stealthy! C'mon Hunk, we _lived_  Spy Kids!"

"Yeah, alright, that's fair." Hunk admits with a shrug. "He learned to slip into my backyard without alerting the alarm. Scary stuff."

Keith rolls his eyes at their exchange but gives his reasoning as he sees fit. "Lance has sharp eyes and his range is better for the job. Also, aliens like him so. That helps."

When it came to tact, Keith wasn't the best person for the job. After years of spectacular failure because of his impulsiveness, he could openly admit this by now.

Lance had a certain dumb charm to him that aliens seemed to latch onto and despite the way he presented himself, he always thinks before he acts.

"Alright," Shiro nods, seeming to approve of the decision. "Let's devise a more concise plan of action."

"Got it." says Lance, eyeballing the ship warily. "Hey, is this thing really gonna hold up with us in it?"

Hunk offers a smile, "It should, but I'll check it out just in case."

"Awh, Hunk, you're the best!"

Pidge clears her throat. "Meanwhile, Coran should have the castle ready to get there. Do we know if Droroth is Galra-occupied?"

"If I'm correct, parts of it are." Allura says grimly. "Which means both of you must exercise utmost caution."

"Yeah." says Keith, the same time that Lance salutes exaggeratedly.

As they leave the hangar, he turns to Lance whose brows are knit with a level of concentration that he's been noticing a lot more lately. Keith recalls the last time seeing this expression of his when Lance had voiced his concerns about being on the team with the return of Shiro.

He does wonder if he'd said the right thing that day, and if Lance's fears had been both acknowledged and abolished.

By chance, Lance catches Keith's eyes on him.

Keith panics attempting to find a suitable statement that can justify his actions. "You sure you're up for this?" He blurts out and wants to hit himself for it.

A look of hurt momentarily flashes across Lance's face, quickly covered with a smile that banishes any worries Keith had expressed. "Who do you think you're talkin' to? Of course I am!"

Keith raises a brow and scoffs—but there isn't any real bite to it—"Good."

For a moment, Keith thinks that this mission may just work out perfectly fine.

* * *

Drorutha is kind of, ridiculously ugly. It looks too much like the washed-out parts of New Mexico where the terrain is bumpy and sandy, the splitting image of the sort of location an old western movie would be set in.

Also, the sky is like. Green. It looks like puke.

Lance resists the urge to chew on a blade of wheat and quote several iconic Eastwood lines. He doesn't think Keith would get many of them anyways—even if he is from Texas.

Their cargo ship gives one last lurch as it settles on the stretch of sand that expands as far as the eye could see. "I really hate this thing." says Lance, wrinkling his nose as he hops out of the carrier. "So now what? We walk?"

Keith scrutinizes the tracker in the palm of his hand and nods. "The biggest hub is a mile or so north of us. We have to land here so we don't attract unwanted attention."

The other boy purses his lips, adjusting the cloak around his neck. The thing about reconnaissance missions was that it required very careful disguises as to not be exposed.

Due to time constraints, Keith and Lance had simply made do with old material that Coran had in the castle. It felt like a repeat of their adventures in the space mall, but at least these disguises were much more breathable.

"Let's get going." says Keith. "Long walk ahead of us."

"Or..." Lance responds, "We could hitch a ride with that guy."

The black paladin looks over at the direction Lance points out where an alien on a dune buggy is gliding seamlessly over the mounds of sand.

Lance waves his arms wildly, successfully managing to get their attention as they come to a stop before them. "Hey, are you headed over, uh, there?" It doesn't occur to him until the words are out that he doesn't know the name of the hub nearby.

The alien most closely resembles an upright slug, weird slime and all. They reach two grubby limbs up and push their goggles to their forehead. It slips down again because of the slime. "W'shiia? Yes, I am!"

"Cool, cool. My buddy and I were also—"

The alien scoots over and gestures to the space left on his seat. Lance pretends not to see the slimy imprint and sits down. "Keith, let's go!"

He sighs, following suit and pointedly avoiding moving around. Lance whoops with excitement as the vehicle streaks across the dunes with blinding speed. "Would you quit that?!" He hisses, clinging to Lance's cloak so he doesn't fly off.

Lance laughs, and the echo finds its way into Keith's chest. He clamps up and hangs on tighter. He just wants to get off, get a safe distance away from Lance before he—

"Holy quiznak, W'shiia is _amazing_!" crows Lance, "Look at it!"

He opens his eyes.

True to Lance's words, the hub is bustling with life. Aliens of all sizes and colours interact in a bazaar-like area. Buildings behind them are large and elaborate, adorned with mauve and gold trimmings.

In the distance, a tall, stone castle sits intimidatingly overhead. Keith has a very good idea of what may lie there.

"Thanks man!" Lance says as the buggy comes to a stop, some feet away from the bazaar. After a few more words of gratitude to the alien, he turns to Keith and lowers his voice, "Sooo... I'm guessing you see that castle too?"

Keith frowns. "Yeah. Might be hard to get there. Look." Lance turns around, just in time to see two skulking Galra walk by, muttering to one another in low voices as they make their way to the castle.

Lance grimaces, "Spy Kids it is."

They spend the better part of an hour getting information from the locals about the inhabitants of the castle—though most people simply dismiss it as some high-ranking Galra soldier and that they've never actually _seen_ them. The rest of the time is spent actually devising a course of action.

"Would be much easier if we could just steal some uniforms and walk in." complains Lance.

Keith frowns wryly. "Neither of us are purple."

"I know, I know." He sighs, "Maybe Allura would've been better to bring."

"What?" Keith squints. He wonders if Lance is feeling... inferior? They all had their strengths but—"I chose _you_ for this, Lance. Stop worrying about it."

Lance doesn't say anything more about it, but Keith still isn't sure he had said the right thing.

He glances down at the GPS in his hand that indicated there were a few more kilometres away from the castle. "Besides, you were a cargo pilot, weren't you? Suited for this thing."

"Wh—Look who's talking! Dropout." scoffs Lance, but there isn't any real malice in his tone. "Gotta get to higher ground, c'mon."

* * *

The path to the castle is unusually silent. Lance has the sudden urge to quote Han Solo and admit that he has a very, very bad feeling about this... But he doesn't think Keith will appreciate it much. 

"Something's wrong." says Keith, voicing his exact thoughts.

"Yeah, you said it." He touches his bayard beneath the cloak as his brows knit. "It's almost as if they're letting us sneak in."

"Shit." The black-haired boy mutters. "You might be right. Be on your guard."

Lotor had been toying with them from the very beginning. Lance didn't want to say it, but he had a very clear advantage over them and he would have nothing to lose by killing them here today.

"Hey! You aren't supposed to be here!"

Or maybe they actually had snuck in?

"Quiznak." Lance whispers, as they spin around to face a Galra soldier toting a gun. "Heyyy, we were just passing through!"

The soldier scowls. "I bet." He withdraws his pistol and begins shooting, the same time that Keith fires up his shield and jumps in front of Lance who activates his bayard and takes aim.

"This was not part of the plan!" Keith growls, fumbling with the distress beacon in his cloak. "Pidge is gonna fly in any second now! Get ready f--!"

"Way ahead of you!" says Lance, disarming the soldier and grabbing hold of Keith's hand. They take off running, recognizing that their position had been compromised and they needed backup. "Think Lotor's behind this?"

"Wouldn't surprise me." says Keith shortly, "Lance--!"

A whizz of metal shoots by his ear, ricocheting off of a metal beam. Lance spins and takes out several robots while Keith covers them both with his shield. "There's so many!"

They get a safer distance away and Keith deactivates his shield. He blows a strand of hair from his face and looks up at the sky, " _Where_ is Pidge, she--!"

For Lance, things begin to move in slow motion. One minute, he's behind Keith and the next, he's shoving him out of the way as a laser comes shooting at them. He grossly miscalculates the speed in which he whips out his own shield and the laser nails him in the shoulder and then another in his hip and another in--

The thing about excruciating pain is that it leaves little room for anything else.

Lance can acutely smell his own sizzling flesh as he slams into the ground. He can faintly hear Keith shouting his name and fending off multiple soldiers that advance on him. He recalls the moment where two Galra soldiers grab him by the arms and wrench him away, even as the Green Lion descends and manages to snatch Keith in its jaws, unable to get Lance in time.

He remembers himself yelling at Keith to go and then his vision going fuzzy.

Lance doesn't remember anything else after that.

* * *

Keith remembers pain.

Pidge assures him that as soon as they have everyone else and a significantly better chance, they'll come back for Lance. She's already scanning the castle for heat signatures and brainstorming a plan of attack.

It feels like he's betrayed the one person who cared enough to help him be a good leader. _Failure_. It burns going down his throat.

 _Abandonment_. Tastes even worse.

* * *

Lance wakes up to his blood cooling in his veins and a heavy object sitting on his chest that for once, isn't intangible. It's not a mass of regret that pricks him from the inside.

Instead, a dark mess of fur purrs languidly as a tail sweeps up and down his forearm. A cat. It's a _cat_.

He bolts upright and the animal's hackles rise. It jumps up and whizzes out of the room but all he can hear is the streaks of lasers as they pierced his skin. He touches his shoulder and feels spandex that he _knows_  he hadn't been wearing before.

It doesn't hurt to sit up, but when he does, he feels sick, like he's going to throw up the longer he stays there. It reminds him of the first time he'd snuck into a club in Bayamo--where the music was too overwhelming for his sensitive ears and the reverb kept nauseating him.

Lance scrubs a hand through his hair as he scrutinizes the stretchy material his body is encased in. It feels and even looks like the protective fabric he'd worn when in the healing pods back at the castle.

He doesn't want to come to terms with it, but he knows it as well as anyone. He's been captured. Frustrated tears threaten to well up in his eyes but he pushes them back in favour of actually figuring out where he is and how he can get out.

It's always better to devise a plan instead of cry. That's how he's gotten himself out of numerous tough spots before. Lance scoots off the cot he'd been lying on and regains his footing after a near stumble.

He knows he'd been shot right where his hips were. Yet for whatever reason, he doesn't feel any pain. Not even a little pinch when he prods the affected area.

Lance regards the cot again. It doesn't seem out of the ordinary for a Galra facility, in fact it is just as cold and unforgiving as one would expect. He wonders why, then, was he not strapped down and why there was nobody else in sight.

He clenches and unclenches his fist and loots around the room for any indication of his prior get-up, and more importantly, his bayard. Nothing.

"Quiznak..." He mutters and turns his attention to the doorway that leads _elsewhere_. It's open just a crack, probably where that odd cat had scampered off through. He can't hear much movement through it, but he wouldn't put it past the Galra to simply be biding their time and watching him scramble. He just hopes that Keith made it out okay and that he and Pidge were both _safe_ , even if he wasn't.

Lance wraps his hands around a long pipe attached to a wall and pulls with all his strength. After a moment of heaving, it gives a sullen crack and breaks apart. Water droplets escape the damaged end still on the wall but he doesn't have much time to think about the property damage he's caused.

Instead, he sets off.

"Juni Cortez, don't fail me now..." He says under his breath as he begins to tiptoe through the desolate hallways. The lack of soldiers prowling is a good indicator that something is still wrong and it fills him with a sense of déjà vu.

He's got a weapon though. Hopefully that could save him. And even if it doesn't, he'll kick some Galra ass in the meantime.

Lance rounds a corner and comes face to face with a door that he truly believes will lead to an exit. He takes one cautious step and then another and breaks out into a run.

Just as quickly as he begins to dash towards it, he finds himself being knocked off his feet and sent sailing through the air.

He hits the ground not knowing how he ended up there, and his eyes swim in disorientation. "What the..."

"Awh, come on. Did you really have to break the pipe?"

He _knows_ that voice and he _hates_ it. A figure materializes a few metres away from him as he forces himself back to his feet.

The red-skinned Galra.

He can't remember her name, but in the moment, it doesn't bother him. All he can feel is the crushing realization of just how _fucked_ he is.

Has the previous paladin ever ended up in a situation like this? He doesn't know how likely it is that he can manage all on his own but God... he's going to fight tooth and nail for a chance.

She sighs exaggeratedly and begins a very bored approach. He wonders just how long she'd been there, invisible and waiting for the best chance to intervene. "This means we won't get to use this whole wing until Acxa fixes it!"

Lance waits until she gets close enough before he lashes out with the pipe. It doesn't touch her but as it whips by, her eyes widen with surprise and she grabs hold of it. "Hey! I was _talking_ , ya know."

He grits teeth and attempts to wrench it free with added fervor.

The woman rolls her eyes and tightens her grip on the steel pipe. Beneath her fingers, it creaks and caves inwards. His breath catches in his throat and it momentarily gives her the upper hand as she throws it aside. It rolls down the corridor and hits the opposite wall with a sad thunk.

"Lotor isn't gonna be happy about this~!" She says in a singsong voice, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. "But, y'know, I gotta give you credit! You're so spindly, I didn't really think you could pull that pipe off at all."

"I'm not _spindly_!" He protests.

"Awh, you're so cute when you try to act tough." She coos, obviously not taking him serious in the least. It doesn't take her any amount of force at all to haul him upright and manhandle him away from the room he'd woken up in and down a longer, more chilly hall.

They end up in another, more larger room with a table that stretches from one end to the other, empty chairs lining the entirety of it on either ends. A group of armoured soldiers are conversing around the end furthest from the doorway. A holographic map hovers over the surface, bathing the room in a blue glow.

"Look who woke up!" chirps the Galra woman with a vice grip on his shirt. "Even better, you should see the damage he caused!"

"Ezor, that is no way to treat an honoured guest." A lower, more taunting voice scolds. Lance's heart sinks.

The woman holding him drops him back to his feet and shoves him towards the group of Galra before him. He already knows good and well who they are and what _they_ can do.

"Welcome to our humble abode, Paladin." says Prince Lotor with a smile. "I hope you will find it _agreeable_."

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr.](https://wlwjirou.tumblr.com)


End file.
